Just Like Heaven
by HystericalConfession
Summary: He doesn't want to live without her, but he has no choice. He is reminded of her in everything he does and everywhere he goes, and sorrow has made a permanent settlement in his heart; until he meets someone new, who breathes fresh life into him and gives him a reason for living once again.
1. New Beginnings

_Hey everyone! I'm already working on a story right now, __**Let Me Be With You, **__but I'm wrapping it up and I really wanted to start a story where one of the main characters was a character I created and not from Titanic. So here this is! I'd love feedback. Enjoy!_

It wasn't supposed to end up like this. When Jack puffed cigarette smoke out of his lips and nostrils and revealed the cards in his hands to be a full house, he never thought everything would end up the way they did. As he and Fabrizio leaped onto the ship and raced down the decks to find their staying room, his heart was bursting with glee and excitement, so glad to finally be going home; not writhing and suffering, like it did now. The first time he laid eyes on Rose, he fell in love, and when she returned to him the evening of April 14, 1912, he took her hand, helped her up on the ship's sturdy railing, and envisioned a bright, beautiful future with her as his wife.

He never would have expected that Titanic would sideswipe an iceberg, splitting in half after the head was completely underwater, and be sucked beneath the unforgiving sea, leaving her terrified passengers drowning in the freezing waters or huddling against one another on lifeboats.

After the elegant ship finally met her horrifying death and slipped beneath the surface of the ocean, Jack remembered gripping Rose's hand and tugging her along as he kicked and swam through the Atlantic. Her face was blue and etched with shock, her lips trembling and her curls matted to her head and frosted with ice. Finding a floating piece of wood, Jack helped her up on it and then found a large chair nearby to cling to. He positioned his body as best he could on top of the chair and paddled over to Rose, at the time confident and positive that they would survive the tragedy. After all, they had to; she belonged with him, and he had promised her that he'd take her out to show her the world with a new set of eyes. He was going to marry her and make love to her every night and make sure she spent every day of her life knowing that she was his world, his everything.

But her hand found his, her fingers icy and shivering, and her dulled eyes bore into Jack's. "I love you, Jack."

"Don't you do that," he nearly scolded, his grip tightening on her hand. Her heavy, forced breaths were loud, almost drowning out the screams of the dying. "Don't you say your goodbyes." He refused to die and leave her alone out here, all by herself without a familiar soul.

He never thought that it wasn't his death she was thinking of.

Fifteen hundred people, passengers and crew members alike, perished that night after Titanic sank.

Rose was one of them.

**oooo**

He had been here countless times before, but it was still the loveliest sight to him-second only to Rose.

The wind tousled his blond locks and gently caressed his tanned face, carrying a hint of chilliness since it was only March, and his bare toes sank into the warm sand; the Pacific waves rose slowly and crashed onto the shore, a melodic sound to Jack's ears, especially after the year he had had.

After Titanic sank, what he wanted most was to be with her, but in her last moments of life, they held each other's hands tightly and promised one another that they would go on if anything happened. He hadn't any inkling of thought that either of them would die.

But Rose did, and Jack couldn't go, too, though God knew he wanted to. Her loving words were the chains binding him to life, too strong for him to shatter and break free from.

And so his Rose lived on in his breaking heart, bringing him love and heartache at every thought of her.

For four months, he lived as a scoundrel in New York once Carpathia docked, stealing fruit from shops and sleeping in alleyways, too pained to pick up the pieces and rebuild his fragile life. The summer heat of August burnt his skin and made him delirious, and he finally decided to begin putting things back together and find work. He performed odd jobs delivering ice, cheese, and milk, helping construct buildings, and selling newspapers on street corners, all the while sleeping in cheap motel rooms and surviving on the minimal amount of food to get him by. After five months, he had collected enough money to move out west to California.

He had been to Santa Monica several times before, but he had promised Rose to ride horses with her on the beach there and get on the roller coaster so many times they threw up and teach her to talk like a man; he felt that since he couldn't do those things now, he could at least honor her memory by moving there and doing them by himself.

The beach was as beautiful now as it was the last time he had visited it four years ago in 1909. As a seventeen-year-old artist, he was so carefree and outgoing, in love with life and his spirit…

And now, any trace of that had disappeared. His face seemed to age ten years, the beginnings of wrinkles etched under his blank eyes and around his mouth. His hands still drew, but only to earn extra change and not out of passion as they once did.

Jack sighed and picked up his feet, anxious to get to his small apartment before the sky fully darkened. He had work early in the morning, anyway; Sarah wanted him to open up the shop for her, a decent achievement for him since she didn't find her employees necessarily that trustworthy.

The clouds rolled in, hiding the orange sun as the sky dripped with bright shades of pink.

Santa Monica was so beautiful. He could only wish Rose was here to experience it with him.


	2. A Drawing

_Just a note, German is not my first language, so I apologize if there are mistakes! Enjoy! :)_

She may have been second-class, but she damn sure should have been first.

She walked tall and confidently with her neck strained and her head held high in the air wherever she went, even during bathroom trips in the middle of the night. At first glance, her face was cold and serious, with piercing brown eyes always staring straight ahead and plump lips puckered in a constant pout; one would have never thought she was anything but wealthy and at the top of the top.

Her name was Saffron Anneliese Kaufmann, and she was the daughter of a German immigrant and a middle-class American woman, named after her mother's favorite flower and born between an older, sassier sister and a younger, whinier sister. Her voice carried a hint of a German accent, unlike her siblings, and she was her father's favorite daughter.

She was a week shy of her twenty-first birthday when she tugged the straps of her yellow cotton dress over her shoulders, slipped her bare feet into her favorite pair of heels, and swiftly let down her long, pin straight black hair, running her fingers through it to loosen the tangles, before striding into the kitchen of her family's small home. It was the same scene that morning as it was every morning: her father leaning against the counter with a wrinkled newspaper in his hands, her mother elbow-deep in a sink full of dishes, and her younger sister Lea sulking next to the pantry.

Saffron's cherry red lips turned upward as her father raised his gaze over the top of the newspaper, his dark eyes that mirrored hers perfectly lighting up at the sight of her. She offered no greeting to her mother or Lea, but that was nothing out of the ordinary; her mother and her sisters preferred each other's company anyway, while Saffron and her father were two peas in a pod.

She flashed her teeth and took a step towards the door. "Vati, ich gehe zum Strand."

A dinner plate was thrown into the sink; soapy water splashed all over the counters and the kitchen floor. Her mother lifted her eyes toward her dark-haired daughter, irritation written all over her face. "Saffy, I'm glad you appreciate your heritage, but _please _speak _English _around me."

"Me too!" Lea piped in, tossing her long, blonde curls over her shoulders. "Lily and I hardly speak German anyway."

Saffron's formerly pleasant expression fizzled away into a blank one, her lips returning to their usual pout and her eyes dulling over. "I just told Daddy I'm going to the beach. I'll be back later." Her hand gripped the doorknob and twisted it to the right. "Oh, and Lily doesn't live here anymore, _Lea._"

She didn't look back as she forcefully closed the door behind her.

* * *

"How extraordinary!" the elderly woman exclaimed as her shaky fingers took the sketching out of Jack's hands and brought it closer to her eyes for a better inspection. The charcoal drawing of the woman perched on a boulder, her wrinkled, bare feet deep in the hot sand and her face beaming with a wide smile was so lifelike it looked almost like a photograph.

Jack smiled sheepishly, though his blue eyes held no happiness. "Thank you. The charge is a dime."

His customer removed a silver coin from her purse and dropped it in Jack's outstretched hand. "Thank you so much, Mr. Dawson; I will definitely be coming back soon!"

He nodded his head at her as she slipped on her shoes and began to walk away. "Have a nice day, ma'am!"

The waves were slow and rare today, and the wind held more chill than it did in the days before, tickling Jack's arms and face and raising goosebumps on his skin. Thin white clouds drifted across the bright sky, masking some of the sun's rays, and Jack's hand itched to pick up the piece of charcoal again and draw the scene. It was the first prickle of passion he had felt since the night of the sinking, when he made love with Rose in the Renault.

The Renault now resting on the floor of the ocean.

He sighed and lowered himself onto the sand, pulling his sketchpad into his lap and poising his hand for drawing. Why did he always do that, bring himself down when the beginnings of joy started to crawl over him? The charcoal flew across the page, rapidly filling up the blank sheet with clouds and glittering sea water, but the artistic passion that had been tugging at him a few moments ago was now gone.

Like Rose.

"_Dammit._ Stop that, you idiot."

"What?"

Jack glanced up to see a tall, slim woman blocking his view of the sun, yellow rays shooting out from her sides and giving her the appearance of an angel. Every girl he had seen today had her hair pinned back, but this one didn't; her ebony locks fell over her shoulders and large breasts, and her dark eyes fixated on Jack as she waited for an answer.

"What?" He blinked at her, his mind going blank.

"Were you directing that toward me?" she asked, her already serious expression hardening. Jack detected an accent in her voice, but couldn't place where it was from.

"Directing what toward you?"

"Ich denke, dass Sie verrückt sind." She revealed her teeth in a humorless smile.

"I'm sorry, I don't, uh, speak…" He trailed off as his thoughts died again, the piece of charcoal falling from his fingers and landing in the sand.

"I _said _I think you're crazy."

"…Oh." Jack redirected his gaze back to his drawing, his cheeks flushing pink. "I wasn't, um, saying _you're _an idiot, I was, um, talking to myself…"

She gave him a curt nod, her chocolate brown eyes softening just a little. "What are you drawing?"

"Just the beach."

"Do you draw people too, or just scenery?"

His face turned up to hers again, the sadness beginning to creep into his heart. "No, I draw people as well…"

Her lips formed a genuine smile, one that almost made him want to smile, too. "May I see your artwork?" She sat on top of the boulder he had drawn the elderly woman on minutes ago and lifted out her hand; the sketchbook was slipped into her fingers and she withdrew her arm, pulling the pad close to her body and lifting back the cover. A sketch of a young mother and her toddler playing in the water graced the first page, followed by a teenage boy and his beagle in the sand; an old couple watching the waves; Sarah, his boss, laughing as she dusted off a shelf in her shop; and Jack himself, staring into a mirror in the bathroom of his apartment, his face without any emotion. He heard her let out a quiet gasp at the last drawing, her fingers tracing his face and her lips parting.

"Your eyes, they are so… So… _Sad," _she murmured, shifting her gaze from the art to Jack sitting on the ground close to her. He looked back at her, and her suspicion was confirmed: even now, days after the picture was drawn and dated, his blue eyes carried that same overwhelming sorrow. She handed him the sketchbook back and hopped down from the rock, her hands quickly reaching down to readjust her yellow dress and her flowing hair.

"What is your name?"

"Jack Dawson."

She smiled again. "Jack, will you draw _me_?"

He sucked in his breath as he looked over her skinny figure and then met her face—high cheekbones, thick red lips, shimmering brown eyes. She was beautiful—almost as beautiful as Rose.

"Yes."

Her knees instantly hit the sand and she laid herself out, kicking her heels off and stretching out her legs, throwing her hair over her right shoulder and positioning her arm to prop up her head. "My birthday is in a few days, and I'd like a drawing to celebrate it. Is this an okay position?"

_Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls._

He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and flipped to a clean page in his sketchpad. "That's fine."

She puckered her lips at him and stared straight into his face with her smoldering eyes, her bare feet crossed over one another and the hand not holding up her face burying itself in the sand. Jack found himself overcome by the desire to look into her eyes and struggled to keep focused on the drawing, every so often throwing his blonde hair out of his face, just as he did when he drew Rose. This woman truly was gorgeous, his head kept screaming, but he pressed his lips together in a thin line and furrowed his eyebrows.

Twenty silent minutes later, he announced he was done and ripped the page out of the book. She brought herself to her feet as Jack handed her the sketch; her gaze scanned the paper and her mouth dropped open.

"Mein Gott, this is _amazing, _Jack!"

"It costs a dime," he replied, tearing his eyes away from her face as he stood up himself.

"It's well worth it." She slipped the coin into his hand, his skin sparking alive just the tiniest bit when her fingers brushed his. "Thank you so much, this is beautiful."

"Well, it always helps if you have a lovely subject," Jack said quietly, giving her a small smile.

She laughed and slipped her heels on again, holding the drawing against her bosom. "I'll see you around, Jack."

"Wait, what's your name?" he called after her as she started back up the beach.

Stopping in her tracks, she glanced over her shoulder and replied, "Saffron."

_Saffron. _"Bye, Saffron."

"Bye, Jack."


	3. Nights Alone

"You been out all day, Saffy, where you been?"

Her mother's voice cut through the silence of the dark kitchen like a sharpened knife. Saffron lifted her eyes in the direction of the words, her heartbeat slowing in her chest.

"I told you, Mutti, I went to the beach. I paid a man to draw me for an early birthday gift for myself."

Heavy cigarette smoke enveloped her face in the blackness of the room, traveling up her nostrils and squeezing past her lips. She wrinkled her nose at the stench.

"It damn well would not have taken all damn day for some man to draw you, Saffron. _I _know exactly where you went."

Saffron lowered her head in defeat, shame creeping over her and seeping into her skin. She was glad her mother couldn't see her grace melting away.

"Mutti, I—"

"You went to that damn grave."

She said nothing.

"Didn't you, Saffy?"

Silence.

"I knew it." Her voice was thick with disgust, and she stamped her cigarette out, the action so familiar to her that she knew exactly where the ashtray was in the dark. "I knew you'd do this, go to the beach for just a little while and then walk yourself down onto the cemetery and waste away the afternoon and evening kneeling in front of the damned headstone. Am I right, Saffy?"

She could hardly bring herself to whisper. "Yes."

"It's been four years; I thought you'd stop that by now." Her mother's heels clicked against the tiles as she stomped past her daughter, making her way to her bedroom. "Go to sleep, Saffron."

"Yes, ma'am…"

* * *

"Sarah, do you know what 'saffron' means?" Jack inquired, setting a stack of books on the step of a nearby ladder and picking up the duster from its resting place on the top of a bookshelf.

The middle-aged woman standing behind the shop's counter tied a black ribbon around the end of her silver braid and then tossed the hair behind her back. "Saffron? Oh, honey, it's a spice!"

"A _spice_?"

With a loud chuckle, Sarah left her place at the counter and searched out Jack in the back of the shop. Her hands, the skin beginning to form slight wrinkles and her nails long and curved, grabbed the first three books at the top of the stack and placed them on the part of the shelf that Jack had already dusted. "Well, it's a spice that comes from a _beautiful _flower that's also called saffron. Its petals are a light shade of purple, but the stigmas are yellow, and that's why people find it so pretty."

_A lovely girl named after a lovely flower. _"Oh."

"Why you asking, honey?"

"Well, I, uh—"

"You met Miss Kaufmann, didn't you?" Sarah winked at him and picked up the rest of the books off the ladder step. "That darling black-haired girl?"

"Oh…Yes." A hint of pink flushed in Jack's cheeks but quickly disappeared. "I drew her on the beach yesterday."  
"She's a doll. Her mama's parents died when she was a teenager and she moved out here to Santa Monica. Then her daddy came over from Germany, and they met and got married. She's got charming parents; her daddy's a hard-working man, real nice." Sarah wiped her hands free of dust on her ever-present apron, stained with dirt and paint, and turned on her heel to march back to the counter. "She got two sisters, an older one named Lily and a littler one named Lea. They're both blonde and green-eyed, like their mama, but Saffron's a spittin' image of her daddy."

Jack stepped around the shelf to move on to the one behind it, grabbing a few books and setting them aside. "Do her sisters have accents, too?"

"Oh, no. Her sisters could care less about their heritage; as far as they're concerned, they don't got a trace of German blood in them at all. Don't get me wrong, Mister Hans tried to teach all of his daughters the language, but Lily's not too bright and forgot a word as soon as she learned it and Lea wasn't interested in the least. Miss Saffron was the only girl that tried to learn it and kept speaking it throughout her life."

"Ah…interesting."

"Yes, sir. They're a nice family, all in all. But then again, I don't know too much about their personal lives, so they certainly could have some demons, but doesn't everybody?"

Jack's jaw locked and he had to force the words out through his teeth. "Sure do, Sarah."

Sarah glanced at her watch and clapped her hands loudly. "Well, Mister Jack, it's almost four in the evening; why don't you go ahead and head on home? You've been here since seven!"

"Thank you so much." He returned the duster back to its home on the top shelf and retrieved his satchel from the back of the shop. "See you tomorrow morning, Sarah."

"Good evening, Jack!"

The bell atop the doorway jingled merrily as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

The bathwater was cold, as usual, but he was third-class and had learned to get used to it over the years. He rubbed the soft sponge over the skin of his bare chest and then dipped it back in the water to rewet it, running it over his arms and shoulders. His damp locks stuck to his scalp, and he wrung water and what soap was left out of the sponge and placed it on the side of the tub before removing the plug and listening to the drain groan as it sucked down his bath.

He dried off, slipped on old sleeping clothes, and mopped up his wet footprints with the towel, his lips pressed firmly together. The thought that ran through his mind every night during his bath returned again, just like clockwork: what would married life be like, taking baths with Rose? He imagined saving up money to purchase a tub big enough for two, boiling water and dumping it inside, and then plucking red petals off a rose and tossing them into the tub as he waited for the bath to cool down. He then would call Rose into the bathroom and they'd step inside and lightly splash water on one another, her red curls dampening and her face, bright and clean of makeup, beaming at him with a grin.

He wasn't surprised when the tears didn't come that night. They hadn't in a while—months actually; instead, the sadness in his soul had ebbed away a little, and his heart had hardened into a strange numbness that he had never felt before, each night pumping through his veins like poison and slowing the flow of his blood and his heartbeat. It was like he'd turned to stone when the sky darkened and the stars made their appearance, and he'd lay in the blackness of his bedroom, staring out of the closed window and reminiscing about the four days he spent on Titanic.

Looking back on it, he thought, it was such a short time, but it seemed each day had lasted ten years.

But even knowing Rose for forty years wasn't enough.


	4. A Second Meeting

**A big thank-you to Miss Sarah (thegoodgirldoll) for always reviewing my material! :D And also a HUGE thank-you to Smiles for Penguins for the awesome suggestion and pointing out my hilariously horrible typo in chapter three, I've fixed it!**

**Enjoy! :D**

It wasn't the same.

The piece of charcoal fell out of his hand, landing on the desk and rolling onto the carpet. He pulled at his blonde hair, grunting in frustration as he surveyed the drawing. She was staring out at the sun setting into the sea, her face colored orange and her red curls glowing bright in the sunlight. Her hands were folded over one another and resting atop the ship's railing, her expression hard and unhappy, but still showing off her immeasurable beauty—just the way he first saw her, the first time he was captivated by her.

But it wasn't the same, sketching her from memory. It wasn't the same as drawing her from life as she elongated her body on the couch, her fingers brushing her chin and the glittering Heart of the Ocean weighing down her neck. His stomach wasn't pumped full of butterflies, his cheeks weren't burning pink; it just wasn't the same.

_"I love you, Jack."_

_ "Don't you do that. Don't you say your goodbyes."_

He'd give anything to have the chance again to tell her he loved her too.

His hands were dirtied from the charcoal, but he had already taken his bath for the night; he rubbed them on a pair of nearby trousers lying on the floor before forcing himself into bed, the mattress stiff and uncomfortable and the pillow flatter than holy hell.

Would he mind such cruddy sleeping conditions if Rose was lying beside him?

He could feel the hours slipping away as the already dark sky continued to blacken outside the bedroom window, the scene empty of stars and the moon hidden behind thick clouds.

Almost like the night Titanic struck the iceberg.

_Stop it, just fucking stop it, Jack._

His mind went completely blank for a few minutes, but sleep still continued to escape him. It was probably a miracle how his body could run on only minutes of sleep each night, but then again, he also found it to be a miracle he hadn't croaked from heartache yet.

Life was funny, he guessed.

* * *

Her eyes were bloodshot and carrying heavy, purple bags, but she held her chin up high like she did any other day, refusing to acknowledge her weakness from the night before as the sun broke across the horizon. The chirping of crickets died down as the yellow light bathed the scenery outside her bedroom window, illuminating the trees and bringing the dewy grass to life. Birds swooped down from tree branches to find breakfast, their merry songs reminding Saffron that it was a new day and the old one had melted away.

Lack of sleep didn't affect her as much as she thought it would, but she figured she was used to it by now—all those nights staying up and reminiscing wasn't for nothing; building up a tolerance for consciousness had to count for something, right?

Her bare footsteps were light as she walked out to the kitchen, her slim figure hidden behind a flouncy, crimson dress and her ebony hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her parents were nowhere to be found, but her older sister glanced up at her from the shopping catalog in her hands, her green eyes fierce.

"What are you doing here, Lily?"  
The tall, blonde-haired woman placed the catalog on the counter behind her and stepped towards her baby sister, a smirk forming on her lips. "I've come to talk to you."

Saffron frowned and squared her jaw. "Ich will nicht reden."

"Saff, stop it. Daddy's not around for you to impress."

Her brown eyes blazed red and she stomped her feet against the tiled floor. "_Impress _Vati? You think I'm trying to _impress _him?"

Lily rolled her eyes, grabbing the ends of her long hair and tugging on them in frustration. "That's why you let him teach you German, right, Saff? To impress him? Lea and I don't give a damn, we're _Americans._"

"Just because I embrace my culture doesn't make me un-American, you fool." The raven-haired beauty stepped dangerously close to her sister, their faces only centimeters apart. "You don't have to appreciate it, but you shouldn't just _reject _it entirely. You and Lea have done nothing but hurt Vati's feelings for so many years about all of this business, making fun of us for speaking his _Muttersprache _and celebrating holidays the German way and everything else. You ought to appreciate him for leaving his beloved Germany and coming to America to make a better life for himself, because we could've been born there and been living a life worse than this."

Lily's nostrils flared, her cheeks burning scarlet. "You know what they say about Germans, Saffron. We're damned lucky we live in a place where the people have known Mother for so many years that they didn't say anything when she married an immigrant and birthed three of his daughters!" She hastily crossed her arms, wrinkling her beige blouse, and glared at Saffron, her eyes becoming mere slits in her skull. "We're also half American, you know. Maybe you should act like it."  
Saffron's hand flew into the air, but Lily snapped forward and grabbed her wrist, holding her arm in the air.

"Don't you dare hit me; I'm your _older sister!_"

_"I don't give a damn!"_

The women stood for several minutes silently cursing the other until the color finally drained from their faces and Lily dropped Saffron's arm.

"I came here to talk to you, like I said. Your birthday is in a week."

Saffron raised an eyebrow, hoping she wasn't steering the conversation into a place she didn't want to visit. "What about it?"

"You're going to be twenty-one, Saffron. _Twenty-one. _Don't you think you should start to settle down?"

"I don't want to settle down, Lily."

Lily licked her thin lips and suppressed a sigh, her eyes averting to the tiles below her feet. "Saffron, Mother and I just think it would be best for you if you tried to find a husband and perform the duties a woman is supposed to, especially after what happened—"

_"Shut your goddamn mouth, Lily." _Her whole body shook from anger, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes bulging out of their sockets. _"Don't talk about that."_

She still didn't meet her sister's gaze. "Saffron, I'm just looking out for you."

"I don't _want_ a husband, Lily. Why don't you and Mutti understand?"

"You'd be happier—"

"Is that why you came here, Lily? To bring up the past and try to prove yourself to be superior to me?"

Lily raised her hand, finally looking her sibling in the face. "Saffron, I—"

She shoved her sister to the side and stormed out the door, too angry to even put her shoes on.

* * *

He couldn't explain the jolt throughout his body as his gaze met Saffron's; he jumped to his feet and waved at her as she walked over to him, the wind blowing the skirt of her red dress around wildly.

"Good to see you, Jack." She smiled, causing him to return one even though he had had anything but a pleasant morning. "Are you always at the beach?"

Jack shrugged, the numbness he had felt all day slowly being replaced by glee. "Most days, yeah. It's nice."

"I started coming here often about four years ago," Saffron mused, picking her feet up out of the sand and beginning to walk; Jack followed next to her, clutching his sketchpad against his side.

"I just moved here a few months ago."

She looked at his face, studying his expression. "From where?"

He choked down the lump growing in his throat, his grip on the sketchbook tightening. "New York."

"Sounds lovely. I've lived here all my life." She let out a long sigh, turning her face against the wind; it tossed her ponytail around in the air, but she enjoyed the cool feeling of it whipping across her cheeks. "So perhaps I'm biased in saying this, but the Santa Monica beach is the prettiest one there ever was." Her eyes suddenly locked on Jack, excitement crossing her face. "Do you want to ride the rollercoaster?"

Jack froze in place, his blue eyes wide and his heart stopping in his chest. The _rollercoaster? _Without Rose? "Um, I—"

"Are you scared?"

"No, I just—"

"Then come on!" Her fingers wrapped around his and she shot forward, dragging him behind her.

_I can't, not without Rose, not with another girl, if I did go I could only go by myself, not with someone else—_

They made it to the waiting line in front of the coaster, Saffron's dark eyes gleaming excitedly. "I haven't ridden this in years!"

Jack could only stare straight ahead, his hand stiff in hers.


	5. Blossoming Emotions

Jack stared at Saffron as the coaster car came to a halt, pieces of her black hair sticking up into the air and her brown eyes wide as ever. He struggled to keep from laughing, but when she turned to him and burst into giggles herself, he couldn't help but join her.

"I don't remember it being so…adventurous." She patted down her now unruly hair and smiled at Jack, sending sparks down his spine.

Rose was almost long gone in his mind.

"I dunno, I always thought it was fun."

Her hand suddenly found his and squeezed it tightly, the expression in her eyes changing from shocked to excited. _"We have to ride it again."_

She was _almost _gone… But not quite. Her pale face reappeared in his mind, her green eyes sparkling although her ruby lips were pouting. Pain yanked at his heart, reminding him yet again that she wasn't here anymore, and he sighed.

Saffron's face fell slightly. "We don't have to ride it if you don't want, Jack."

His blue eyes met her dark ones, his skin tingling just enough for him to notice. He had to ride the rollercoaster again, for Rose… But there wasn't anyone else that he wanted to ride it with besides Saffron.

His sudden smile lightened her mood. "I'd love to."

* * *

Saffron waited with her back to Jack as he finished retching into the waste basket, his hands holding his belly as the cheap beer from the early morning left his stomach. After four times on the coaster, she pretended that she was perfectly alright, but she felt her own lunch stirring inside of her.

Soft footsteps in the sand reached Saffron's ears, and Jack appeared next to her, his face green and his eyes half-closed. "That was horrible."

"Feel better, Liebling?"

He forced himself to nod and stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his clumsy feet. "I just want to lie down."

Saffron studied his expression, her heart pumping faster as she tested her luck. "Do you want to go back to your home?"

Another nod.

The sun was hotter than usual, beaming down on the pair as they trudged to Jack's apartment, Jack struggling to walk and Saffron following after him like a diligent puppy.

But his pounding headache and queasy belly were worth it; he could see Rose laughing at him, her smile making her even more beautiful and her eyes shining. He only wished Rose could've experienced it with him too.

Saffron closed the door behind them after they walked in, and Jack immediately leapt on his stiff bed and groaned loudly.

"This sucks."

"Do you want me to sing you a song to make you feel better?" she laughed, planting herself at the foot of the bed.

"If you want."

Her plump lips parted, and a lovely voice poured out, the words strong and beautiful, even though Jack hadn't the first clue what she was singing.

"Dornröschen, nimm dich ja in acht, ja in acht, ja in acht,

Dornröschen, nimm dich ja in acht, ja in acht.

Da kam die böse Fee herein, Fee herein, Fee herein,

Da kam die böse Fee herein, Fee herein."

Her last note hung in the air before Jack finally sat up and spoke. "What was that?"

"Part of a children's song." She smiled sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. "My Vati sang it to me when I was young. It is, um…" A panicked look crossed her face as she racked her brain for the right word. "It's the fairytale with the princess who pricks her finger and falls asleep—"

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"Yes!" She threw her hands up in relief and let them fall, one of them coming to rest on Jack's knee. He looked into her gaze, his heart skipping a beat, and then sinking into his stomach.

He couldn't do this. Not when Rose was gone.

Gently he took her fingers and removed her hand, placing it on the mattress and swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry."

She gave him a blank stare before nodding once, a wave of disappointment washing over her. It was silly, she supposed; they barely knew each other, after all. She shouldn't be having romantic thoughts about this man.

"I should go." Saffron slowly rose to her feet and walked to the door, giving Jack a small wave before disappearing out of the apartment.

He was angered at himself for beginning to miss her as soon as she left.

**I found the Sleeping Beauty song on the Internet btw, so my apologies if it isn't correct! Sorry this chapter was so short, but I'm already starting on the next one!**


	6. Barriers

**A big thank-you to my readers and reviewers! :) Love y'all!**

She tried not to cry, but sometimes it was too hard to keep it all in.

She closed the door to Jack's apartment gently behind her as a tear trickled down her cheek; she hurriedly brushed it away, but more followed and it became no use. Her footsteps were slow and soft as she walked home, the orange sky high above her and the sun sinking in front of her. Sunsets were one of the things she loved most in the world, and so did he; but he wasn't here to experience them with her anymore.

And Lord, she wished he was.

Her cries grew louder the closer she got to home, and by the time she threw open the front door and stumbled inside, they were full-blown sobs. Her father leapt out of his living room chair and rushed to catch her as she fell to the carpet, his expression alarmed and his eyes wide.

"Mein Gott, Saffy, what's wrong?" His gray beard scratched her cheek as he pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice barely audible above her weeping.

"Vati, I can't handle it."

"You've made it this far, Saffron; you can keep going."

She pulled away from his hug and forced herself into a standing position, using the back of her hand to wipe her tear-soaked face. Her father followed suit, rising to his feet, and stared into her gaze, searching for an answer.

"Saffron Anneliese—"

"I can't keep doing this."

"Why? Because your sister and mother continue to harass you?" He stepped closer to her, one hand flying up to pick at his beard as he spoke. "What they think should mean _nichts. _You don't need their opinion."

"It's not just them—"

"I know, Liebling. There is someone else, ja? You have been going out often, more than usual."

She nodded, sniffling. "He's my friend. But I think I might...have feelings for him." Her face crumpled as another wave of sorrow crashed over her. "And I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Her father grabbed her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "Be strong, Saffy. You can be strong."

* * *

The numb shell around his heart cracked, and he could feel the anguish begin to trickle inside. Then came the tears, the first round of tears in what seemed like a long time. Jack clutched his pillow to his stomach, his body convulsing with each sob that erupted from his throat, and fought for a breath in between his cries. His lungs screamed for more air, his throat screamed for soothing, and his vocal chords screamed for silence; it was all too much for him, too much to deal with now.

Rose should've been there, she should've ridden the rollercoaster with him, she should've been at home when he got off work each day—but he let her down. He promised her the world, he promised to save her, and he didn't. He let her down. He let her _die._

"—so sorry, Rose, I'm so sorry—" he wailed, making a fist and pounding it into the mattress. "I'm so sorry—"

_Jack, stop—_

"—so sorry—"

_It's not your fault—_

"Rose—"

* * *

He didn't know when he had lost consciousness, but he awoke with a start when the sun broke through his window and shined its vibrant rays in his face. Stumbling out of bed, he put on fresh trousers and a fresh shirt and ran outside to get to work.

Sarah was waiting for him with a big smile when he arrived, her nimble fingers sewing together a small pillow for her niece. "Mornin', Jack!"

"Good morning, Sarah." He immediately grabbed a stack of books resting on top of the purchase counter and began to organize them and give them homes on shelves as Sarah watched.

"You look rough, Jack."

"You could say that." His voice was scratchy, his throat hoarse from the night before.

"Wanna talk about it?"

He didn't reply. Nevertheless, Sarah pushed on, her years of motherly wisdom an advantage to her and a disadvantage to Jack.

"Son, it'll help a great deal if you get it off your chest. Nothin' worse than a heavy mind and a heavy heart."

He paused, a dusty cookbook in his hands. His mouth moved without his permission, the words scurrying out before he had a chance to force himself to be quiet. "I'm betraying my wife by seeing another woman and it's killing me inside."

Sarah's hands froze, the needle she was holding nearly falling out of her grip. Quickly she reviewed his confession in her mind, and sadness crossed her face, though she didn't let Jack see. Her voice was timid, her words gentle. "Your wife's gone, ain't she, darlin'?"

The book hit the ground with a thud as Jack struggled to keep from crying. "Yes, ma'am."

"Baby, listen to me. And listen good." She pulled the needle through the blue fabric in her hand, her eyes intently studying her work but her mind entirely elsewhere. "You cannot dwell on things. It is absolutely essential to move forward; you have to, for the heart and the soul. If you are stuck in the past, you _die, _Jack. You understand?"

There was silence on his end of the bookshop.

"I imagine your wife loved you very much, and I also imagine that she wouldn't want to see you like this. Would she?"

"I imagine not…"

"Nobody would, honey. When you love someone, you always want them to be happy. Always! And sometimes you gotta do things that will make both of you happy. It ain't always easy; I loved my husband to bits, but I left him so he could be with his mistress, and it was one of the best decisions I made. Both of us were happy! He had that horrid woman, and I opened this bookshop." She chuckled at the memory. "I still love that man. Always will, even if he stopped loving me. What I'm saying, baby, is that your wife would be happy if you moved on, and I think you would too."

Sarah set her sewing on the countertop and walked to the back of the shop to find Jack kneeling, his hands covering his face as he silently cried. She patted his shoulder and fought back tears herself. "If you like this woman, keep seeing her. Your wife would want to see you smile, not cry."

Jack dropped his hands and looked up at her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "She…she was such a wonderful woman, Sarah. You have no idea."

She smiled warmly. "I know she was, darlin'. Only a wonderful woman could move a man like she did you."

"I miss her, Sarah."

"I know, baby. But you gotta get up, you gotta get going. You'll never grow if you stay stuck; you'll forget what it feels like to be happy." She gripped his forearm and pulled him to his feet. "Now, Jack, you get back to work, alright? I'll let you off later."

He nodded and forced a smile.


	7. Shared Secrets

**Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! :) Enjoy!**

The slight breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, a soothing sound to Saffron as she slowly dropped to her knees in front of the rain-washed headstone. A few short cracks ran down the top of the stone, but its words were still visible, even in the moon's light. The yellow tulips Saffron had placed on the grave three days before were beginning to wilt, their petals falling off into the grass and wrinkling up. She made a mental note to bring fresh flowers for him tomorrow, but right now, she just needed to be with him for a little while.

Just like the night before, she had stayed up late with an aching heart and thoughts of Jack, only this night she left her home and found herself at the cemetery. Why had Jack turned down her advances? Was she not pretty enough for him, or fun enough for him? Was her accent annoying?

She sighed and traced the headstone's name with trembling fingers. She was being silly, she told herself; she sounded like an immature little girl with her first love. Her twentieth birthday was around the corner, and she needed to act her age, dammit! Even if Jack didn't like her romantically, she needn't to fret about it like a worrisome girl—like her sisters.

But she couldn't help her painful feelings, she couldn't help that she was finding herself caring more and more for Jack every day. She was so sure until yesterday afternoon that he cared about her too, but it turned out she was wrong.

She knew her mother would be waiting at home for her, furious that she was visiting his grave again, so she rose to her feet, kissed her fingertips, and grazed the stone as if she was giving him a kiss.

"Love you always. See you tomorrow."

* * *

He stared into the tiny, cracked mirror hanging on the bathroom wall, his gaze hardened and his blonde locks messy and tangled from sleep. It wasn't even daylight yet, but his mind was racing and he had to get out of bed and move around.

Though he didn't want to admit it, he knew he needed to, for himself and for Saffron—he regretted turning her down that afternoon. He regretted taking her hand off his knee and causing her to leave; he regretted seeing the look of hurt cross her face before she disappeared out the door. He wanted to see her again and apologize, tell her that he thought he had feelings for her, reach out and hold her hand and make her smile.

And yet there was Rose at the forefront of his mind, reminding him that he still loved her and always would. His heart was heavy, constantly fighting a battle between wanting to be happy and feeling guilty for doing so. Saffron made him happy, but with that came a sharp sorrow that stabbed him and made him long for Rose.

No, Saffron couldn't compare to Rose, but still… Still, she was something. Something wonderful.

Jack growled to himself and tugged a white shirt over his bare torso, bounding out the door and into the moonlit streets. He needed to get out, clear his head.

* * *

Saffron knew she should've gone home, but instead she simply wandered the empty streets of Santa Monica, her mind racing with a million thoughts.

A figure turned onto the road she walked on, seeming to head toward her. Her heart stopped and panic seized her; should she turn and run? Was she in danger? But as the person got closer to her, she thought she was able to make out his features—light-colored hair, bright eyes, beige trousers… Was it… _Jack? _She paused and squinted her eyes, noticing the man do the same.

"Saffron?"

It was him.

"Jack!" She was surprised at the wave of joy that washed over her at the sight of him. Before she knew it, she broke into a run and was at his side, a small smile on her lips. "Hallo, Jack. Why are you out so late?"

The unhappiness he had felt just moments before vanished as he laid eyes on her. "Why are _you _out so late? You're a lady, shouldn't you be home?"

Saffron shrugged. "I was visiting someone."

"In the middle of the night?"

She held his gaze for a few silent seconds before she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards her. The incident from a couple of days ago had been completely forgotten by the both of them.

"Jack, do you want to come with me somewhere?"

"Sure."

* * *

Their breaths were loud and forced in the night air as they came to a stop at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea. Saffron dropped Jack's hand and sat down in a patch of grass, fixating her gaze out at the darkened waters ahead.

"This is my favorite place in the world, Jack. I come here when I need to think." She turned to him and smiled; he smiled back without a single thought and sat beside her. "It's a secret; I've never shown or told anyone about it."

"It's nice," Jack murmured, running his fingers through his hair. The rising and falling of the waves filled the air, the silvery moonlight reflecting off the water's surface. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of emotion and a longing to turn to Saffron and tell her about Titanic, about Rose, about his heartache, and he hadn't a clue why; his only explanation was that he knew she would care and listen without judgment. Hesitantly he lifted his eyes in her direction, his mouth opening and an almost hoarse voice drifting out.

"Saffron, I want to… Tell you something."

Her dark eyes moved from the ocean to his face, settling on his gaze. "Okay."

A loud sigh escaped him. "I've never truly… Told anyone. Not the whole story, not everything. But I want to get it out, and I want you to be the one to hear it, because I trust you."

"That's an honor, Jack."

Five minutes of silence passed as Jack racked his brain for the right words to begin his story. Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "You've heard about Titanic, haven't you?"

Saffron replied with a curt nod, her stomach sinking; she didn't have a good feeling about where this was going.

"Last April, my best friend and I won tickets to Titanic in a lucky poker game. We were both so excited to go to America; I missed my home, and Fabrizio wanted to see his family again. We grabbed the tickets and our money and raced through the crowds waving goodbye to their loved ones on the ship. My blood was pumping, my heart was pounding—I couldn't _believe _I was only minutes away from sailing on the most luxurious ship in history." He took a breath and glanced over at Saffron, who was watching him attentively. "Fabi and I jumped onboard just seconds before the ship took off. We were in third class, of course, but it wasn't anything we weren't used to. That evening, I was drawing a father and his daughter on the deck when I saw her for the first time…"

He paused to keep himself from crying before beginning again. "She was so beautiful. And the next night, I met her; I was smoking a cigarette outside when she ran passed me and climbed over the ship's railing, dangling her body over the ocean. I didn't know why this girl wanted to kill herself, but I knew I needed to stop her. I convinced her to come back over onto the deck, but she slipped and almost fell; luckily, I caught her and pulled her back onto the ship. Her ass of a fiancé invited me to the first-class dinner the next evening, which I accepted—"

"What was her name?" Saffron whispered, her eyes on the waves crashing onto the sandy shore.

Jack's response was almost silent. "Rose… Rose Dewitt-Bukater." He blinked away tears. "She sought me out to thank me the next day, and we talked, and God, she was so amazing. So fiery and full of life, yet so trapped. It was at that moment that I knew I loved her. And I tried to show her that—I took her to an Irish party in the third-class, I told her how wonderful she was, and finally she broke away from her family to join me. The night the ship sank, I drew her. We made love. She told me she was going to live a life with me after we docked… But it never did. The ship hit the iceberg. It went down. I tried to save Rose, but… She died." His words were mumbled, his vision blurred from tears. The memory was so fresh, so painful, and yet it felt so good to finally tell someone…

Saffron snaked her arm around Jack's and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry…"

"I just… I miss her so much."

"I understand your pain…"

"You can't, Saffron. It's so hard losing the person you love most—"

She put her finger on his lips to silence him and stared deep into his eyes, searching for his soul. "I have a secret too, Jack."


	8. Burden of Sadness

Jack stared at Saffron with a puzzled expression, one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. "A secret?"

She nodded solemnly and exhaled softly into the night air, an uncomfortable emotion settling over her. She knew what she was getting herself into, but Jack had been kind enough to trust her with _his _story, and she felt that she needed to do the same. Detaching her arm from Jack's, she folded her arms across her chest to keep her thumping heart from bursting out of her ribcage. Before she even opened her mouth to begin her story, tears were already freely flowing down her cheeks.

Her gaze was focused on the calm waters below the cliff they sat upon, her body shivering, although not from cold. With a deep sigh, she forced herself to start.

"My twenty-first birthday is in a few days," she stated calmly. "You already know this."

Jack nodded, confirming what she said.

She hiccupped quietly. "When I was fifteen years old, I fell in love with a man. His name was Robert, and he moved to Santa Monica looking for work. He was quite older than me, but my family didn't object to our relationship, so he courted me."

She glanced over at Jack, noticing she had his full attention, and brushed away a few trickling tears.

"However, he didn't want to be married. His mother and father's marriage was terrible, and he feared his own would be just as bad. I was young; I didn't really care what he said at the time, I just knew I loved him and wanted to be with him no matter what. He seemed to love me as well, and I was so… So happy." Her fingers dug into the earth, grabbing a clump of grass and ripping it out of the ground. She threw the clump over the edge of the cliff, watching it tumble down into the sand. "My mother and sisters tell me all the time that this was a mistake, but not to me, it isn't. They said I should've left him when he refused marriage, because a suitable girl needed to have a husband and I would go nowhere in life if I wasn't married."

Saffron paused for a moment, regaining her breath and struggling to hold back her growing sobs. Jack pulled her arm out of its grip on the other and slipped his hand into hers, enjoying the warm feeling of her skin against it. Finally, she managed to break through her tears and speak again.

"When I was seventeen years old, I learned that I was pregnant. Except for my Vater, everyone was horrified—even Robert. It broke my heart because I was so excited to have a family with Robert, but he got scared and left. He didn't leave behind a note or anything; I went to his house the morning after I announced I was having a child, and it was empty, abandoned. I was devastated, of course, because my child's father wouldn't be in their life, but I was also excited about having a baby in the first place. My mother and sisters were so worried that I would be an outcast for being pregnant out of wedlock, but to tell you the truth, Jack, I didn't give, uh… A…"

"Shit?"

"Yes," she replied with a chuckle. "I didn't give a shit. And though my Vati tried to talk her out of it, my mother would not let me leave the house or go out in public, because she was scared people would talk about us. So I stayed at home for many months, and then my son was born."

Saffron laughed through her tears, her face bright and glowing though stained with wet trails on her cheeks. Jack couldn't help but smile at her infectious happiness. "It was the happiest moment of my life. I named him Thomas Hans Kaufmann, his middle name being my Vati's name. Vati was proud to have a grandchild, and my mother couldn't deny her love for him either, but my sisters rejected him completely. It hurt me at first, but they are not worth any negative feelings, my sisters; they are just mean people." Saffron squeezed Jack's hand and turned to look into his eyes, not noticing the fluttering of her heart as she did so. "My son was so perfect. I loved him more than anything in this world, and I still do. We didn't go out in public often during the day, because my mother would throw a fit; she cared for my son, but she still was afraid of town gossip. So in the evenings and at night, I would take Thomas out to the beach down there, and we would watch the sun set and the moon rise, and play in the water together. I loved nights so much, and so did my son, even though he was only a small child. When the orange sun finally sank below the sea, he would smile so big, the prettiest sight I've ever seen."

The picture Saffron's words painted comforted Jack, giving him a sense of peace—though he had forgotten about her sadness just minutes before.

"Thomas was my everything, Jack. When he was two years old, he became sick… In the beginning, no one was really worried about it, because babies get sick sometimes, you know?"

Jack nodded and took notice of the sickening feeling growing in his stomach. He clutched Saffron's hand tightly in anticipation and watched as she was overwhelmed with sobs again.

"It got bad. A doctor came to look at him and said there was nothing that could be done for him. A few weeks after he became ill, my son passed away… He slept in my arms during the night, and when I tried to wake him up one morning, he just—just wouldn't wake up."

Tears stung Jack's eyes, and although he tried to blink them away, a few spilled over onto his cheek.

"My poor baby died, Jack. My world died with him. I told you earlier that I was visiting someone; that someone was my son. I go to his grave often and bring him his favorite flowers; that little boy loved nature, he did." She laid her head on Jack's shoulder. "My mother gets mad when I sneak out to see him, because his death hurt her as well and she doesn't know how to deal with it. She was unhappy with his existence, yet loved him at the same time. No one's visited his grave besides me and Vati," Saffron murmured, slinging her ebony hair over one shoulder.

Jack sniffled and wiped away his tears. "I'm sorry, Saffron…"

"I know how it feels to lose the one you love most, Jack. I told you." Her cries had grown quiet, though her tears were still present. Her eyes locked on Jack's and something stirred inside of her; romantic feelings that she knew she had for him, that she couldn't fight anymore. She leaned toward him without thinking and gently pressed her lips against his.

Her soft kiss made his blood bubble and his heart explode, sensations he never thought he'd experience again after Rose's death. Overcome with emotion, he kissed her back, deeper, until Rose's face suddenly popped into his memory.

His heart broke.

"I'm sorry—" he mumbled as he jumped to his feet and ran down the cliff's side, his head pounding and his stomach churning from nervousness.

Saffron watched him leave with a heavy heart before burying her face into the palms of her hands and bawling like a child, her body feeling numb from sadness.

Heartache seemed to be her best friend.


End file.
